


Drink Your Way Home

by Evil_Little_Dog



Category: My Own Private Idaho (1991)
Genre: Community: comment_fic, Introspection, POV Second Person, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-28
Updated: 2015-04-28
Packaged: 2018-03-26 03:24:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 406
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3835177
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Evil_Little_Dog/pseuds/Evil_Little_Dog
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Summary: Mikey’s introspection, through the movie and somewhat beyond. <br/>Disclaimer: Oh, so not mine.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Drink Your Way Home

**Author's Note:**

  * For [tigriswolf](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tigriswolf/gifts).



You think you have your whole life ahead of you. Everything’s going to go your way. You do the thing, and the thing is great, and your world just opens up. Like a flower, except maybe not so stupid. 

And along the way, you met someone. Your best friend. Scotty, handsome Scott, slumming down with the hustlers and johns. You don’t mind hustling. It’s a good way to pick up money and clothes and food, even if you don’t connect to the johns. You do connect to Scotty. He’s like the sun, and you – everyone – kind of revolve around him. 

But you still want to find your Mom, and when Scotty ups and offers to go with you, there’s no way you’re telling him to stay here. You love him, you know it in your gut and in your heart and even if he’s really straight – he’s just hustling to piss off his dad, and what a way to do it – you can’t help yourself. ‘Cause Scotty’s like the sun, and you’re just spinning around him, like Pluto or something. 

Then he gets a girl. Finds a girl. You hear them fucking, the walls are that thin. Or maybe he wants you to know. Know what he’s found that you couldn’t offer. You don’t have a pussy, you’ve got a dick. And Scotty only wants that to piss off his dad. 

Scotty leaves you alone, to try and find your Mom. You don’t, but you eventually get back home. There’s an article in the paper, a few months after you return – Scotty’s getting married. To the girl. 

Kills you. Knife to your heart. Everything inside feels like broken glass, all chopped up and cutting you from the inside out. You sniff and wipe your nose. Wad up the newspaper and throw it away. Kick the can, denting it. Kick it again and again and again until your foot’s throbbing and the pain’s on the outside now. 

You don’t have any congratulations for Scotty. On his wedding day, you hang outside the church with Gary, passing a bottle between you. You see Scotty. Like the sun. Everyone revolving around him. 

Gary whines when you grab the bottle and throw it after the limousine. It shatters nowhere near the car. 

“Great wedding, Scotty,” you yell after him. “I drank your present!” 

It doesn’t help. Not really. But you pretend it does, hauling Gary up to take him home.


End file.
